JOHNSBURG -- I know what I'll be doing on Christmas Eve. My wife, my 4-year-old daughter, my dad, my brother and I will snowshoe out into the woods in late afternoon, ready to choose a hemlock or a balsam fir and saw it down -- I've had my eye on three or four likely candidates all year.
We'll bring it home, shake off the snow, decorate it and then head for church, where the Sunday school class I help teach will gamely perform this year's pageant. (Last year, along with the usual shepherds and wise people, it featured a lost star talking on a cell phone.) And then it's home to hang stockings, stoke the fire and off to bed. As traditional as it gets, except that there's no sprawling pile of presents under the tree.
Several years ago, a few of us in the …
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